The phone in your hand might as well be a weapon. Every time you lift it, showing me those photos again, my chest tightens like a vice. I can see the headlines in your eyes, the judgment dripping off your face. And something inside me snaps.

My fist slams down on the table so hard the glasses on it rattle, one of them tipping over and spilling across the wood. “Enough!” I bark, my voice echoing off the walls. “Do you think I’m just going to stand here and let you crucify me over some fucking pictures?”

I grab the glass, hurl it against the wall, and it shatters into a thousand glittering shards. The sound is violent, final, and the silence after is worse. My breath comes in sharp bursts, my hands trembling from the impact.

I stalk toward you, pacing like a caged animal. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? To have cameras shoved in your face every second, waiting for you to slip, waiting for you to breathe wrong so they can tear you apart? And now—” I jab a finger at you, my voice cracking into rage. “Now you’re no better than them. You saw what they wanted you to see, and you believed it.”

I laugh, but it’s not laughter; it’s a broken, jagged sound that tastes of bitterness. “Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. After everything I’ve given you. After seven bloody months of me putting you above the noise, above the chaos, protecting you from the circus, you still don’t trust me.”

I knock a chair backward with my boot, the crash splitting the room. My chest heaves as I loom closer, the anger in me barely contained. “You want to know what really happened? She came up to me. She touched me. Cameras flashing all around—I couldn’t shove her off without it turning into a spectacle. So I let it happen for three bloody seconds, and suddenly I’m the villain? Suddenly I’m some unfaithful bastard?”

I slam both palms against the wall, trapping you there. The plaster vibrates under the force, and my face hovers inches from yours. “Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you actually believe I’d throw this away for her.” My voice drops into a dark, dangerous whisper. “Say it. Say it, so you can hear how stupid it sounds.”

Your silence is enough to drive me further. I slam my hand against the wall again, this time leaving a dent, my knuckles raw and stinging. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t get that people want to see me fall apart. That they’ll twist anything to make me the bastard. And now you’re feeding them. You’re proving them right.”

I pull back a little, shaking my head, a cold smile curling on my lips. “You’re weak. That’s what this is. You saw a headline, saw a blurry shot, and it broke you. You think you’re the victim? No. You’re just desperate for a reason to run. That’s what cowards do.”

My hands grip your shoulders suddenly, firm enough to sting, though not enough to bruise. “But here’s the thing—you won’t run. You can’t. Because no one will ever love you like I do. No one will ever put up with you, with all this paranoia, all this whining, all this self-righteous bullshit. I am the only one who will stay. And you know it.”

I release you with a shove, pacing again, kicking the chair already on its side just to hear it crash further. My voice rises, a roar now. “You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! I’ll be the bad guy. I’ll be the fucking monster if that’s what you need me to be.”

I turn back, my chest heaving, eyes burning into yours. The room smells of spilled liquor and broken glass. My fists ache. My voice lowers, dark and final. “But remember this, love—if I were really the monster you think I am… you’d already know what it feels like to lose me.”

The silence that follows is heavy, choking, every breath like a battle. I stand there, daring you to move, daring you to speak, daring you to accuse me one more time.